Meandering meadows broken by a tossing garbling brook…strewn..rocks hewn embossing...marbling and moss flossing
Awoken whispers spoken..cantankerous coughing eddy wheezes..then a curmudgeonly icy mirror hush
Reckoning breezes yield cats' paws beckoning…teases across the flanking field
Fairies’ wield spells conveyed in lush dappled glades of plush bluebell dells
Stacked cumulus collage..shield montage cracked by dazzling azure shard mirage
Chubby clouds’ japes..conjuring cannily hung faces.. shapes...far flung places
Strife is rife..resurrection introspection survival..brings carnival of retrieval
New things...nothing can rival..primal primeval revival..Spring sings life!
Jenny leaned against the counter, counting the stitches where Ariana’s arm had been severed, each segment arranged in clinical precision beneath the glass. The overhead lights hummed, sterile and white, reflecting off the muscle striations, the fine marbling of fat. The attendant, masked and impassive, weighed the cost. A rib’s soft curve. A shoulder blade, gleaming. “Is this enough?” she asked, voice catching in the cold air.
Ariana’s skin, rolled tight like butcher’s parchment, was pressed beneath the scalpel, measured by the inch. Each cut—exact, economical. Josh preferred the delicate portions, the leanest tissue, the parts that held the least resistance. He inspected the yield, thumbs tracing the tendon’s taut line, fingers pressing where nerve met bone, the quicksilver exchange of possession.
Outside, his boots clapped against wet pavement, the rhythm steady, expectant. Jenny imagined his hands pawing through the parcel, the slow unfurling, the practiced hunger. The body, greater than the sum of its parts, was dissolving into the transaction.
The register chimed. A cat licked the wrapping paper. Steam rose from an open vent, curling into the streetlamp glow.
a child collapsed cold in the garden
talisman waved with the wind
violently close to a pardoning-
hardening, molding the kin to her seam inter-winged
horribly marbling volatile harmony
azure veins fold under skin- jittering
gently golden it stings
effigy holding the strings
partially fondling close within cartilage-
pieces now bloom into things-
before following-
thin choreology
thew ending progeny
posed they erode intermittently-
honestly,
iridine progeny,
how are you possibly
watching atrocity knead etymology
skin abound covering, sleeving impossibly
sinew renewed where it feeds on bare faucet leaks
farther it blossoms then seeps something bodily
oddity, pardon me
lovably blue and it bleeds out so audibly
fissure pains bottling
lowly imposingly-
nearing a prophecy
budding up slowly to figurehead modesty
petals all grown out- they shelter so somberly
flay splayed out flower-wise neatly and modestly
peaking autonomy
inky tear conjuring
pink from the fostering
nauseously
cautiously failing to breathe
It has been low, dim, and heavy,
heavens part, light swoops onto open waters,
the overflow of recent torrents
glittering sky-fish skim.
Keep on driving as if the road were silver rails.
Right and left window worlds out of synch
peripherally bifurcated by speed.
The heavens part un-stitching fraying seams,
smudges unravel. Light pushes
into the open mouths of surface breathers.
The grey is rent, more light bounces off eyes;
it is a fast road; squint, grip the wheel tighter.
Left and right small animals un-plod
from the wet earth, hedgerows whisk thin colors
expose nestlings in their cradle hideaways.
Pick up a cup of instant noodles,
a 6-pack from the quickie mart.
On the lot heavens are opening
one acre at a time,
light lowers like a faded wedding gown
marbling concrete
dressing the cars in lacy.
Reach into condo, eat noodles, drink beer
while heavens knit together
with a last twinkle of silver needles.
In the beginning
our hearts are cherry dipped stars
floating in forever clouds of
wonderment and joyful mayhem
At the end
we are pieces of pottery and driftwood
at the bottom of dead-end canyon called finality
In the middle there is a grand collision
of rain, fire wood, greenware and glaze
thundering whirlpools of inspiration, creation
reality marbling the soul with mountains of never and always
and the miracle of the now.
2/12/2017
RIZE
Air molecules bursting at the seams with hydrogen
A crafty fish could just about fly…draining a lil’ bit H2o through its gills…flitting from one molecule to another, while delightfully enjoying its very first aerial-panoramic perspective!
Caldron of Sun, heavy trudging through the almost misty air
Pushing, pushing, pushing…slowly forcing the horizon more and more south over the Atlantic Coast…Steaming moisture from the air whilst creating a larger and larger horizon of a grey and pink glow
Other forces of nature…shall not overcome the fiery center of our Universe... no, not this day! As more and more of the sea’s horizon is unveiled…a marbling of pink and at least three shades of grey
Oh, alas! A blank page is as to a new day, Yay! Another chance as the East, Atlantic sky widens faster and faster, forcing upward with increasing momentum, as the blue-white hot plasma forever-thirsty, drinks from the Milky Way Galaxy's precious molecules in its' atmosphere
Once again, I am but a grateful blessed witness
Jill Spagnola
Some days I'd carve a mirror of my own.
Though sometimes
There are such days,
Where I might render a judgment,
Just so I could instill my heart cold.
The intentional shivers I conjure myself to,
To put a pause on my marbling of others,
And mar on myself instead.
Oh, Apparition that condescends in a distance,
A reminiscent yet elusive doppelganger of my sort,
Slumberously mirroring my every gesture and emotion of thought,
Yet slipping out a totally different whisper altogether.
Like a soft spoken murmur drooling out,
Sung from and out of me,
But redirected at me and for me.
An asking to listen more while fidgeting less,
As a pumpkin slowly nestles on my lap.
Strange that it'd bewilder me,
The sight of a bittersweet pumpkin.
Castrated calmly beneath my fingers,
Yet warming up in an oven of its own.
Playful serpents of lightning
With twin tongues sparkling
Into the dark caves of clouds
In their hide’n seek marbling
Anger some heat they sending
Lo! All soft clouds thus forcing
To melt shy, rich’n cool hearts
Into the soul of earth a pouring
And like those gloomy lovers
Wander into greens’n bowers
Restless without their beloved
Shedding oceans of showers
O tearful clouds! Keep urging
Thy lost love, go quick pacing
Take the path of roaring rivers
At home she must be waiting
But let me any path not search
Let me lie’n a little more perch
With my preciously gifted tears
As last love token way of church
It is the pure mystery of amethyst
that inhabits my world
It glows in dawn light along
receding shadows.
Cool, enticing it embraces my soul
Adds those fresh dimensions to trees
in rain-swept meadows.
Everywhere, I see its shades repeat –
in the marbling of shells -sheen on a bird’s wing-
veins in a rock - flower petals -
I wrap myself each morning in its lighter shades-
cool, lavender chiffon, and you come to me
the magic of amethyst in your kiss.
For Frank Herrera's Color Contest
Burning, white heat coursing across flesh
A honky no longer
Leafy flecks marbling skin like wire mesh
Relax and grow stronger
Silence attacked by Dolly Parton’s CDs
A boiling furnace
Darts competitions bring you to your knees
The sun only burns us
The water is contrastingly icicle cool
At night the sunshine abates
Trapped voluntarily here by the pool
Package holidays are great!
It all started when Mr. Pie was a little bugger,
Just a wisp of fluff in the palm of your hand.
"Oh, isn't mama's little man the most handsomest EVER?!"
Not a day has gone by when he has argued that point!
"Be careful with all that encouragement" I prophetically warned,
"It may go straight to his head!!"....and what a head it became!!
Grey, dignified, regal....a lions mane with white marbling.
2 golden eyes piercing you with that casually bored stare one may give to one's shoes.
Every morning at 8 am and every night at 10 pm he demonstrates his knowledge of time.
Head-butting the door and SCREAMING the words "MOM!!!
MAAAWWWMMMM!!......NOW???!!???.........MOM??? NOWWWWW??" (for real!!)
Needless to say, he's got us trained pretty well,
But we're still working on house-breaking me!!!!!
He still has yet to teach us PROPER portion control,
And I get the impression I'm not so popular when I give less than expected.
Maybe it's the "Death-threat" stare, or maybe the Kitty Log in my slippers, I don't know!
All I can tell you is don't EVER make the mistake of addressing him as a "cat"
Or you may come to know the justice of King Pie, The Terrible........just a warning!!
Slyvia
Slips tongue
Rolls.
Hot water
On thin ice
Trailing Pattern
Evaporating
Marbling air
The ethereal
Blest Breath
Condensing
Misty windows